ᏰEУ⚙ИᎠ ✞ℍE Ƥᗩ❡ES

ᏰEУ⚙ИᎠ ✞ℍE Ƥᗩ❡ES


ⅅɑy 1

I have become aware of someone watching me. It feels like I cannot escape the stare of this person. It's like I'm an open book. Of course, someone like you would think of the saying when I say that, but that's not the case. I mean that literally. I have come to the conclusion that I am nothing more than a book character. A person scrapped together by some aspiring Writer's creativity and imagination. I suppose most people would feel terrified to have a pair of Another's eyes glued to their backs, but I am not. In fact, I feel somewhat relieved that someone is interested in me enough to watch and observe my every move.

Hello Reader, my name is Noah Mars. I am fifteen years in age and about five feet and three inches tall, so even eighth grade girls tower over me. I have glasses thick as the sole of a boot and hair equally IWH. As far as I know, I am the most uninteresting person I've ever met. Not that I've ever necessarily met myself, as that would be silly, but you get the picture. I am the typical nerd, with outstanding grades and no social life whatsoever. Never in my life have I had a proper friend, except imaginary ones of course, but they are, after all, imaginary no matter how fond I am of them. In the past, I wished I had been born with some sort of mental disease to have a reason for my inexcusable state. But to my displeasure, I had not, leaving me wandering for some sort of goal in this telltale "life"; a reason to live this sad existence of mine.

Now I wonder why my Writer made me like this. I feel so foolish; too weak to be the main character in even my own story. Why hadn't I been written as a charming man, saving beautiful damsels from gigantic towers, giving no thought to reality at all? Or even some handsome, charismatic teenager in a school life drama, falling in love with a shy-but cute- girl? As I can currently make no heads or tales of this matter, I definitely hope my story is not all in vain.


ⅅɑy 1

I have become aware of someone watching me. It feels like I cannot escape the stare of this person. It's like I'm an open book. Of course, someone like you would think of the saying when I say that, but that's not the case. I mean that literally. I have come to the conclusion that I am nothing more than a book character. A person scrapped together by some aspiring Writer's creativity and imagination. I suppose most people would feel terrified to have a pair of Another's eyes glued to their backs, but I am not. In fact, I feel somewhat relieved that someone is interested in me enough to watch and observe my every move.

Hello Reader, my name is Noah Mars. I am fifteen years in age and about five feet and three inches tall, so even eighth grade girls tower over me. I have glasses thick as the sole of a boot and hair equally IWH. As far as I know, I am the most uninteresting person I've ever met. Not that I've ever necessarily met myself, as that would be silly, but you get the picture. I am the typical nerd, with outstanding grades and no social life whatsoever. Never in my life have I had a proper friend, except imaginary ones of course, but they are, after all, imaginary no matter how fond I am of them. In the past, I wished I had been born with some sort of mental disease to have a reason for my inexcusable state. But to my displeasure, I had not, leaving me wandering for some sort of goal in this telltale "life"; a reason to live this sad existence of mine.

Now I wonder why my Writer made me like this. I feel so foolish; too weak to be the main character in even my own story. Why hadn't I been written as a charming man, saving beautiful damsels from gigantic towers, giving no thought to reality at all? Or even some handsome, charismatic teenager in a school life drama, falling in love with a shy-but cute- girl? As I can currently make no heads or tales of this matter, I definitely hope my story is not all in vain.

 

Meh, notes to forum transfer failed (/).-)